


Colder

by spookyawards_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Episode: s08e15 DeadAlive, F/M, One Shot, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-06
Updated: 2004-10-06
Packaged: 2019-04-27 13:26:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14426373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyawards_archivist/pseuds/spookyawards_archivist
Summary: Somewhere between "ashes to ashes" and "dust to dust" the cold crept under her skin.





	Colder

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Spooky Awards](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Spooky_Awards), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [SpookyAwards' collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/spookyawards/profile).

Title: Colder  
Author: Oracle  
Classification: VA  
Rated: PG  
Spoilers: Dead/Alive  
Key Words: Implied MSR, definitely not sallie-safe Disclaimer: 10:13 made this.  
Summary: Somewhere between "ashes to ashes" and "dust to dust" the cold crept under her skin. 

* * *

Scully closes her curtains at noon. She hates the reflection of light on snow. 

There's dirt beneath her fingernails. Since she's not thinking about it, she can't wash it out. She makes tea instead, but doesn't drink it. The mug sits on her coffee table and she sits on the couch. 

And she sits on the couch. 

Emptiness has made her inanimate. She sits on the couch and the clock ticks and the snow starts falling again outside. 

Pure as the driven snow, Mulder called her once, while kissing along her thigh. At the time she laughed. 

Now there is no laughter, but there are no tears either. There's a dark apartment and a cooled mug of tea. There's a chill wind outside. She knows this because she had to pull her coat tighter while standing in the cemetery. 

Although her apartment is a warm contrast, she still feels the cold. Somewhere between "ashes to ashes" and "dust to dust" the cold crept under her skin. It sunk through her epidermis into the layers beneath, and she feels it sinking still, worming its way to her heart. 

But Mulder is colder right now. He's nothing but frozen flesh. 

And there's nothing overly harsh about this, nothing untrue. He simply isn't Mulder anymore. 

He's gone. 

There are no arms to enfold her now. 

There's nothing she can do but walk to the bathroom, lean her head against the toilet bowl and wait, and wait, until eventually her gorge rises. Her stomach empties and she doesn't think about the baby. The baby doesn't make sense anymore. 

When she brushes her teeth she avoids her eyes in the mirror. She's horrified by the thought of her own eyes. How dead they must look. How shiny and sightless. How strange, in her living face. 

She goes into her bedroom and turns off the lights, hiding under the comforter. It's the darkest, warmest place she can crawl, but it isn't enough. 

When she closes her eyes she sees the glare of light reflected on snow. 

She feels purified of warmth. Pure as the driven snow. Her emptiness is really a vacuum of pain and bitter cold. 

Mulder is colder, she thinks, but he doesn't feel it. That's the difference between them now. He can't feel his heart freezing over like she does. 

He can't feel it splintering in his chest. 

* * *

Liked it? Hated it? Do you think I'm spooky? Feed me back: Read my other fic: <http://www.invidiosa.com/oracle>   
  


#### If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Oracle


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